


Beauty and the Beast

by AuthoressofDarkness



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Beauty and the Beast AU, Dark Tony Stark, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Ironspider - Freeform, Kidnapping, M/M, Peter Parker Whump, Rape/Non-con Elements, SIM - Freeform, Starker, Superior Iron Man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 01:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthoressofDarkness/pseuds/AuthoressofDarkness
Summary: Starker Beauty and the Beast AU. Spider-Man is one of the few remaining heroes to contest the rule of Superior Iron Man. Or... he was, until he trades himself for the life of his aunt and uncle. Can he survive under the thumb of a dark Tony Stark? Dark. Mind the warnings and the rating.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

He fucked up. 

Peter knows he fucked up royally when he enters the apartment and is greeted by only a whirlwind of destruction and blood trail that starts from the main bedroom and trails down the hall and through the apartment, culminating in a puddle of blood in the middle of the living room carpet. 

He’s already shaking when he backs out of the apartment and bolts. 

For anyone else, running away would be the logical choice. He’s heard about scenes like this before. He knows what they mean and exactly who is to blame. He knows he should count himself lucky that he was at school, that there wasn’t someone waiting for him, outside the school or back at the apartment. But he isn’t just anyone. For anyone else, this wouldn’t be their fault. They might come home to the scene he just had and feel everything from horror to relief, but what they wouldn’t feel is responsible. 

And Peter is, undeniably, responsible. 

How could he not be? May is a nurse. Ben is a low level cop. And Peter just so happens to be Spider-Man, one of the few remaining vigilantes in the city, and one of the only heroes that dares contest the control of the man who used to be Iron Man. 

Even the Avengers have scattered, and most of them are rumored to not even be in state, if the country. Perhaps they’re not fleeing Stark, exactly, but they may as well be. They’ve left them all to his mercy in essentially the same way.

He doesn’t know how much Stark actually knows. But he does know the only reason Stark would have to have them arrested is if he’s made some kind of connection between them and his alter ego, and that couldn’t mean anything good. All he knows for sure is that it means he better get to where they are before it’s too late. 

So he doesn’t run away, despite the instincts that scream at him to, despite want his sanity might tell him. He heads straight for Stark Tower - the glowing beacon of light in the middle of the city that is a symbol of either terror or salvation depending on one’s allegiance but is unmissable all the same. If Stark took his aunt and uncle, that’s exactly where they’ll be. 

Perhaps he should be surprised at how easy it is to make it there, to waltz right up the tower and climb his way up the walls to Stark’s personal level. He should be, but he’s blinded by fear and fury and desperate purpose, and all he sees is the opportunity he needs, so he doesn’t question it. He scales the building, gets in through a seemingly forgotten open window in a room on the floor he needs, and stealthily makes his way to where he can pick up the sounds of a room with two familiar heartbeats down the hall. 

He doesn’t think about the best way to go about this, though he really should. If he stops for even a second, it might be too late. 

Instead he climbs the ceiling to get passed the guards, then drops down behind them, right in front of the doors. Faster than they can catch him, he throws them open and nearly runs inside, not hesitating even for a second.

He can see them. He can see them, and they’re hurt but they’re still alive and-

Of course he only makes it a few feet before he’s being swarmed by guards. All he wants to do is throw himself in front of Ben and May, between them and the beast pacing in front of them, but he doesn’t get the chance before they’re on him. 

He still semi-accomplishes his goal, but only because the guards drag him forward, between Ben and May and in front of the villain standing in front of them. Peter swallows, but holds his head high. 

“How cute,” is the first thing Tony Stark says to him. He cocks his head, looking darkly amused. “Rushing up here like you think you can do something for them. I gave you a gift by leaving you alone, boy. You shouldn’t be so foolish as to reject it.” 

Peter’s heart jumps into his throat, but he forces it down. He’s spent years working against this man. He won’t be so easily intimidated just because they’re face to face at last. 

“I don’t want any gifts from you,” Peter tells him. His voice doesn’t waver, which he’s proud of for a whole half a second before-

“Peter!” May sounds horrified. “What are you-“

Peter watches as Stark’s gaze snaps to her, and his heart nearly skips a beat when he opens his mouth again. But Stark only orders, “Quiet,” and her mouth snaps shut immediately, much to Peter’s mingled horror and relief. Then his eyes are back on Peter again. “Let the boy speak. Tell me, Peter. Why did you come?” 

Peter gulps again. The fear he’s worked so hard to push down is engulfing his heart again, but it’s not his own life he’s afraid to end here. “I couldn’t let you hurt them.”

“Oh?” Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “And you think you can stop me?” 

_ No _ , some rational part of Peter’s brain says. “Yes,” he says aloud. “I do. Because I know what you want. And it’s not them.” 

“Isn’t it, though?” Tony cocks his head. “At least one of them has been aiding a criminal, Peter. A vigilante by the name of Spider-Man. And that, darling boy, is a crime.” He steps closer to him. “All I want is justice.”

“No. What you want is Spider-Man. And you have him.” He’s feels like he’s going to be sick, but he pushes it down. “You got me. I’ll do whatever you want, but leave them alone.” 

The room is silent for a moment as they all process what he just admitted. He’s fairly certain May is crying behind him, and Ben… he can’t look at Ben, can’t look at either of them. Because it hurts to know they’ll both figure out how long he’s been lying to them, an FB the severity of those lies, and because Ben  _ has _ been helping him, even if neither of them knew it was the other until just now. And if Stark figured that out…

Stark just stares at him for a long moment. Then he shakes his head and actually  _ laughs _ , and Peter almost wishes the man had done anything else instead, because that laugh is dark and grates on his already frazzled nerves and is almost scarier than any other response. 

“Of course you will. You already have.” Stark stalks towards him, tilting his head up with one finger. Blue eyes burn into him, piercing clear down to his soul. “God, you are precious, aren’t you? It begs the question how you even made it this long.” He leans closer. “Did you really think you got in that easily on your own? Why do you think they’re still alive? I could have executed them ages ago. But I didn’t. I knew you’d come. And you didn’t even stop to put on that ridiculous excuse for a suit.” He cocks his head, eyes flicking away for just a moment to the bag still on his back. “Let me guess. It’s in there, isn’t it?”

Peter swallows thickly. He hadn’t even taken his backpack off before coming here. He’d completely forgotten about it until now. And of course the villain is right, about all of it. He’d been so caught up in getting here that he hadn’t even considered how easy it had been. 

Stark grins. The expression on his face says it all, he knows. “Oh, silly boy. You really are too naive for your own good. Luckily we had uncle over here covering your tracks, hm?” He steps away, turning from Peter to Ben, who was still being held by guards behind them. 

Peter tenses. As much as he hates Stark’s attention on him, he’ll take that any time over it being on his family. “Leave him alone.”

Stark simply raises an eyebrow at him, then stalks up to Ben, out of Peter’s line of sight, much to his growing panic. He hears May choke on a sob, and the sound is almost too much for him to bear. “No! Stop!”

“Mind your manners if you know what’s good for you,” Stark warns mildly from somewhere behind him. 

“No!” In desperation, he lashes out at the guards holding him and manages to catch them by surprise. A good knock to the head for the one and takes the knees out of the other, and he’s free.

For a whole second, anyway. 

“Don’t. Move.”

He freezes. The voice is quiet, but dangerous and deadly serious. There’s no mistaking who the order came from, and despite himself, the fear, the voice in the back of his head that tells him he should know better, he  _ obeys _ . 

“Face me.” 

Slowly, he pivots toward him, raising his hands in a small gesture of surrender. 

In the half second it took him to escape, Tony Stark had become the Iron Man right in front of him. He hadn’t bothered with the helmet, but the rest of his body was covered with the gleaming silver armor. 

Including the hand outstretched toward him, ready to fire on a second’s notice. 

Peter’s eyes flicker from the gauntlet, to May and Ben, both of whom now had guns pressed to their sides. Then he looks back at Stark, who is watching him silently but intently, those piercing blue eyes seeming to pin him in place. 

“I didn’t want this to get messy,” Stark says at last. “That’s why I had you lured in like this instead of making it public. We have much to discuss, Spiderling. My patience with your antics is running thin, so maybe don’t push me anymore if you want everyone in this room to live.” 

If he had just said “if you want to live,” Peter wouldn’t have hesitated. He couldn’t care less if he lived or died. Not that he wanted to, but he’d resigned himself to the fact he’d likely die for the cause a long time ago. But with Ben and May in the equation…

He swallows hard. “Okay. No more. I won’t try anything else. Promise.” The words taste bitter, but he gets them out, and he means it. Maybe once they’re gone, but right now… no. Not until he’s sure they’re safe. 

The corner of Stark’s mouth turns up in a cruel half-smile. “Good. Get on your knees.” 

Peter does. He doesn’t even hesitate. He knows enough to know it’s a humiliation tactic, just a test to see if he’ll really listen. And with the only two people in the world he cares about at gunpoint in front of him, he does. He doesn’t know if there’s anything he’d truly resist right now. 

“Much better.” The gauntlet is still pointed at him, but Stark looks away for just a moment, jerking his chin at the guy holding May. Peter almost cries out, but bites his tongue against it when Stark says, “Get the woman out of here. She can go.” 

Relief is immediate and immense, but something else joins it. “What about Ben?” 

Stark turns back to him, not sparing May a second glance as they lead her out of the room. “ _ Ben  _ is still a criminal, and will be treated as such.”

Peter shakes his head. “I told you, I’m the one you want. It’s me. I’m here. Let him go.” 

“I don’t think so.”

“I turned myself in, technically,” Peter points out, growing increasingly desperate. It’s a losing battle, and he knows it. Stark won’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. But he has to try. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

“It counted for the life of your aunt. Consider that my gift to you. Or would you like to reject that one, too?” His eyes glitter dangerously. 

He gulps again. He has no doubt if he as much as insinuates that he does, Stark won’t hesitate to bring her back. “Please,” he tries instead. “I’ll beg, if that’s what you want. Just let him go.”

“As delicious as I’m sure that is… perhaps later.” Stark turns back to Ben. “But… I suppose he still has value. So I won’t kill him.” He steps away, nodding to Ben’s guards. “Lock him up. I’ll deal with him later.” 

Peter can only watch as they start to lead him out. “Please-“

“Enough. Not killing him is more kindness than I’d grant anyone else.” Stark turns back to him, and the cold, calculating look in his eyes is enough to make Peter’s stomach flip. “Not that it’s out of kindness at all, nor will it probably seem like one soon.”

Peter closes his eyes, trying to quench the growing panic before it can take him over. “What are you going to do to him?”

He can almost  _ hear _ the feral grin in Stark’s voice when he speaks again. “Oh, nothing.” A pause, and then he hears the words for the first time that he quickly realizes will reign the rest of his life for the foreseeable future. “ _ If you behave. _ ”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! It's unlike me to not leave an author's note on a chapter, especially a first one, but I was busy and pretty proud of the first chapter so I decided to just post it and see how it went. Never fear, I'm back now! Thanks so much to everyone who read, reviewed, left kudos, etc! Love you all 3000!
> 
> I had a few people ask in the comments if this was going to be a oneshot or a short thing, because apparently I'm a dumbass and had it accidentally marked as complete. The answer is a big NO from me! I have a lot of things being tossed around for this fic and it's probably going to be massive. It's also going to get VERY dark before it gets anywhere near a happy ending, if it ever does, so PLEASE take care of yourselves. I'll try to remember to put trigger warnings at the beginning of the chapters, but just remember: I chose not to use archive warnings. ;)
> 
> Also, shoutout to Itfeelssogoodmrstark for being a great cheerleader and inspiring me to write this. Much love xo
> 
> Trigger warnings: Massive blood loss, Tony being a jerk, non/dubiously consensual touching in multiple ways, needles. Think that's all for this one.

“Behave?” Peter looks up at him, heart racing. “What do you mean, behave? I thought-“

“What, that I was going to kill you?” Stark chuckles, stalking back to him. “Hardly. What a  _ waste _ that would be. What, with all the knowledge and pretty plans packed into your head. I told you, we have much to discuss.” 

“Like what? You know what I’ve been doing, obviously. You know who I am. And if you think I’m going to help you-“

Stark stops in front of him and laughs that dark laugh again. “Oh, you really  _ are  _ naive if you think I would for a second let you work as a double agent for me so that you could double cross me at the first opportunity. I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He tilts his chin up, studying his face with those piercing blue eyes. “No, my interest in you is much more… personal,” he murmurs, lips quirking up in a devious smirk.

Peter shivers. His spider senses are going  _ nuts _ . He can feel the hair on his arms and the back of his neck standing on end, and every instinct in him screams to pull away, to resist, but all he can think about is Ben being dragged to God knows where and there’s no way in hell he’s getting out of Stark’s sight to rescue him any time soon. 

“What do you want?” He sounds defeated, even to his own ears. 

Stark smirks, stroking a cold metal finger down his jaw. “Right now? Your wrists.” 

The words throw him for a whole second before Stark raises an eyebrow at him, clearly ready to scold him already for disobeying, and then he jolts back to reality and thrusts his wrists out in front of him. It only makes sense that he’s going to be bound before they go anywhere. It just… was not the response he was expecting, though he couldn’t bring himself to fathom why. 

Stark’s hand closes over both of his wrists, and in the next instant, they’re both encased in metal. It’s nanotech, Peter is sure immediately. This is the same stuff that armor is made out of, and even his super strength won’t make a dent in it. He knows from experience. 

Stark gives him a tug forward, and this time it’s his  _ lips _ on Peter’s jaw. He purrs audibly as they drag over Peter’s stubble, which grows in quicker with his enhancements, so of course it’s back despite him shaving before leaving this morning for class. 

Classes he’ll likely never go to again. When he was just starting college. And now he’d never get to finish.

Times like right now, when the villains got too close — and they all did, invariably, every once in a while, and of course there was still more around than just the one in front of him — he questioned why he’d become Spider-Man in the first place. He wanted a life. He wanted so much, and then-

And then Stark’s lips brushed against his jawline again, and it both served to jolt him back to reality and remember exactly why. So this person — if he could even be considered one anymore — couldn’t hurt anyone else. And if nothing else good came out of this situation, at least the more time he spent with Peter, the less time he spent hurting anyone else. 

Stark steps back, keeping his grip on Peter’s wrists despite the nanotech. “Up,” he orders, and Peter obeys. Stark starts walking, towing Peter along behind him, and he follows silently, knowing better than to ask where they’re going. 

At least he’s silent until he  _ realizes _ where they’re going, and then he sets his heels into the ground, bringing them to a stop. “ _ No _ .”

Stark raises an eyebrow at him, not even turning to face him completely. “You will do what I tell you,” he tells him. “It’s not a discussion.” 

“If you think I’m going to let you-“

“I don’t think you’ll be  _ letting _ me do anything. I’ll tie you up, if I have to.” Stark cocks his head. “It will be a lot less painful if you cooperate, Spiderling.” 

Peter swallows hard. He’s been here an hour, tops, and Stark has him ready to beg for the second time. It’s almost laughable. “ _ Please _ don’t do this.”

Stark sighs heavily. “Are you always this dramatic?” He gives him a firm tug, jerking him towards him. “We’re going to go in there, and you’re going to do what I tell you, or I’m going to go pay your uncle a visit and make you watch on the security cameras. Do you understand?” 

_ That  _ makes him freeze, and any thought of protests goes out the window the moment he brings Ben into it. “I thought you weren’t going to kill me.”  _ Although I might prefer it if you did.  _ “You’ll never get as much as you want out of me without doing it.”

Stark resumes walking, not-quite-dragging a reluctant Peter behind him again. “I don’t want full schematics. Not yet, at least. Just some blood. Don’t worry, I’ll even take it the easier way.” He stops in front of a door and taps in a code, pushing it open before shooting him a feral grin. “This time, anyway. Now get inside before I change my mind.” 

It takes most of his self control to not shuffle his feet around to delay going in, but he still hesitated for the barest second in the doorway. Thus far, Stark hadn’t seemed to lie to him, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Although why he would when Peter obviously couldn’t get out if he tried… 

Stark’s lab looks even more expansive inside than what he caught a glimpse of through the glass on the outside. This one is obviously for medicinal purposes - or mostly, anyway. A glance around showed full specs of equipment in various sectioned off areas, including everything from what looked to be an x-ray setup to metal tables that he didn’t even want to imagine what happened on them. Just the thought makes him shudder almost as much as the antiseptic smell.

Stark enters behind him not even a second later, and the door hums in quiet confirmation of the lock resetting. Then Stark grabs his arm, guiding him not-so-gently towards one of the areas in the back. 

He pulls him to a stop in front of a metal chair - metal, always metal, some part of him notes, and he shudders to think of the reasons why - and the bonds on his wrists melt away. “Bag off and sit,” Stark orders before turning to a nearby counter. “Don’t do anything stupid, or we will do this the hard way.” 

Peter complies, albeit reluctantly. He’d again forgotten he was even still wearing his book bag, but he doesn’t really want to take it off. He knows the likelihood he’ll see it again once it’s off his body is incredibly low. His chest aches at the thought of losing the suit, but he knows the likelihood he’ll ever get to use it again is even lower than the likelihood of seeing it.

He sets the bag down with a resigned sigh, and sits in the chair. 

Stark turns around a moment later, looking both pleased and amused at his clear resignation. He walks back over, putting a hand on his shoulder, and the bonds on his wrists remateralize, effectively cuffing him to the chair as Stark tilts his head to the side. 

Peter catches a flash of silver from the corner of his eye and can’t help the reflexive gulp. “What are you doing?” 

“Exactly what I told you.” Something cold and wet brushes his neck, and he grimaces at the burn left in its place. 

“You’re taking blood from my neck?” 

Stark heaves a sigh. “Bigger veins, closer to your heart. More blood, faster, less chance the vein will collapse, and I can make it gravity fed so I don’t have to stand here the whole time. But I suppose next time I can just cut you open and get the blood that way, if it suits you.” 

The threat doesn’t scare him as much as it should. Not as much as the idea of a needle in his neck, anyway, which is probably irrational and ridiculous, but it’s true.

He winces as the needle pierces the tender skin on the side of his neck, and then Stark tapes it in place and steps away, letting his head go. He feels the urge to try to rub at it, but doesn’t want to give Stark the satisfaction of watching him pull at the bonds. “Christ. How much blood are you taking?” 

“A few pints, to start,” Stark answers, from somewhere out of his line of sight. 

“A few  _ pints _ ? You  _ are _ trying to kill me.” He sounds more surprised than he probably should. 

“You really  _ are  _ over dramatic, aren’t you?” Stark reappears in front of him, rolling his eyes. “I know what I’m doing. You won’t lose more than thirty percent of your overall blood volume. I’m monitoring it. You may still pass out, though,” he admits with a shrug. “Or maybe not, with your advanced healing.” 

Peter startles. “How do you know about that?”

Stark snorts. “Please. We’ve encountered each other… what, twice, in person? Both times you sustained injuries that might have killed someone else and were at class the next day. You’re not great at being inconspicuous.” 

Peter frowns a little. He doesn’t remember much about either of the encounters, although he knows they happened. Recollection is faint — likely because of the injuries he sustained. He’s had a lot of concussions that didn’t exactly get treated properly. Oops. 

“Oh,” is his brilliant response to that. Then, “If you know about my powers… what are you testing? What is there to talk about if you know all my secrets?” 

Stark chuckles. “I wouldn’t say that. Not yet. Besides, there’s other things to discuss.” 

By now, Peter’s head is starting to feel fainting fuzzy. Sentences are hard to form. He imagines this is what bleeding to death feels like, although the line in his neck is controlled, making it agonizingly slow. “Like what?” 

There’s a faint feeling of fingers on his chin, and only then does he realize that his eyes had fallen closed, and forces them open. Stark is in front of him, of course, studying him with his brows drawn together. 

He only gets a clear image for a minute before his eyes start to refusing to work. Things are going in and out of focus, fuzzy, and the effort of trying to refocus them make him dizzy, so he simply closes them again. 

Stark releases his chin and steps away. “Even if I told you right now, you wouldn’t remember it later.” It’s not a threat, just a statement of fact, and right now he’s inclined to agree. 

How much blood has he lost already? It’s starting to feel less like it’s flowing out and more like it’s being sucked. His limbs, head, and even his tongue are starting to feel heavy. It would take too much effort now to even consider trying to move, even if he had to rip the line out to save his own life. 

It doesn’t exactly hurt. Numbness and fatigue creep up on him, not painfully but still agonizing in their slowness. He finds himself wishing Stark would just bite him next time like the vampire he is. At least that would be quicker. 

Stark’s chuckle sounds like it’s echoing from far away. “I wouldn’t invite me to bite you, silly boy. Although there’s plenty of time for that later. I’m sure we can incorporate that into my plans.” 

Peter is vaguely confused. Did he say that aloud? No way to know, not when his mouth is refusing to work for him when he wants it to. He lets his head fall back against the chair behind him, feeling his consciousness slowly fade away. 

A keyboard is clicking from somewhere far away, accompanied by a low murmuring and then something that sounds like dial tones. A moment later, sounding  _ so _ far away, he hears a single word from a voice he’s sure he knows, but can’t place through the fuzziness in his head: “Hello?”

“Hello, Doctor. I don’t suppose you’re around and would like to swing by the tower. I’ve got something you might like to see…”

The words float in and out of his head, just out of reach as soon as they enter. But the half a second’s grasp he has on them is enough to make his heart race again, even if he has no idea why after. Reality is fading away. No, maybe  _ he  _ is fading away from reality. 

The itch of danger is there until the end, though, and he forces his eyes open one last time to catch a glimpse of a blurry face and brown eyes before passing out. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to say too much because I don't want to spoil this chapter. Only thing is my fair warnings. It's DARK. Some heavy non/dub-con elements are the only real thing this chapter, though. So yeah, enjoy!

When he wakes up, he has no idea where he is. 

His eyes shoot open, and he tries to sit up only to get a head rush, spots dancing over his vision. He tries to lift his hands to his face and realizes they’re bound again. 

A hand clamps down on his shoulder, forcing him to lay back down. “Take it easy, silly boy. You’re still regenerating all that blood.” 

“Where am I?” The words are hard to get out, but at least he feels like he has control over his mouth again. And his limbs, even if they still feel heavy. 

“In bed.” Something presses against his lips. A straw. Figuring there’s nothing he could probably give him right now to make this any worse, he parts his lips enough allow it and sucks gently. Still, he’s relieved to taste that it’s just water, and once he starts, he drains the whole glass. 

A few blinks later, his vision starts to clear, and he realizes Stark is leaning over him, brows drawn together above brown eyes that almost look… is that concern? 

Wait,  _ brown  _ eyes?

He frowns and blinks again several times. No. Definitely blue. And  _ definitely  _ no hint of anything besides cool amusement. 

Stark leans over to set the glass down, and the slight shift in the bed under him makes him refocus quickly. It suddenly occurs to him what Stark had said. He’s in bed. With Stark. In  _ Stark’s _ bed? 

Stark cocks his head at him, a bemused smile toying at his lips. “You know, it’s no wonder you wore a mask. You have a horrible poker face.” 

Peter closes his eyes again, trying to steady himself. “I wore a mask to hide my face from  _ you. _ ” 

“Mm…” He feels the bed shift again, and then-

_ Shit _ . He opens his eyes. Stark has rolled on top of him, the length of his body only inches away from Peter’s, held up - and Peter subsequently caged in - by the arms on either side of his shoulders. He can feel the heat radiating off of the villain’s body, and he swallows thickly.

Stark grins, almost ferally. “And what a  _ pretty _ face it is. And now it’s all mine.” He brushes a finger down his jawline again. 

Goosebumps rise in the wake of his finger as it trails across his throat. Something in his stomach clenches. He should keep his mouth shut. It’s not as if he hadn’t realized that Stark could literally use him for whatever he wanted. And yet… “You think so?” he manages. 

Stark quirks a brow down at him, grinning. “Oh, I know so. You are  _ mine _ , Spiderling. You always were. And you  _ always  _ will be.”

The words feel like they sink from his ears down into his chest, hot and heavy with a lot of things that he didn’t want to examine right now. Not the implications of how long Stark had been hunting for him, nor that he’d had a plan for him all along. Not that he seemed like he really wasn’t going to kill him. Not that it seemed like killing him would be a mercy that he’d be wishing for soon. Not the barely hidden promise of all the things to come. 

He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on any of that. Nor does he listen to the voice inside his head warning him that he should stay quiet, that Stark is probing him for an invitation, trying to provoke him into saying something stupid, and that opening his mouth means taking the bait. He finds he just… doesn’t care.

“Prove it,  _ Stark. _ ”

The effect of his words is nearly instantaneous. He watches Stark’s eyes darken, even as his grin grows more feral, triumphant. “Oh, I  _ will _ ,” he purrs, and the pure  _ darkness  _ of the tone sends a warning tingle down his spine. 

And then Stark’s mouth is on his, a hand moving up to his hair and threading into his curls, gripping tight enough to hurt and tugging his head back as Stark attacks his mouth, working it open. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, hot and wet, then presses inside, tasting and dominating-

Peter bites down, shoving his bound hands into Stark’s chest at the same time. The nanotech kept him from being able to use his strength to break the bonds, but it didn’t keep him from  _ using  _ his strength. 

Stark jerks away, cursing. He puts a hand to his mouth, chuckling darkly and shaking his head when it comes away bloody. “Cute,” he tells him dryly. Then he takes his chin, gripping it hard enough to hurt. “I knew you’d be a saucy little minx in bed. But you better  _ watch  _ that attitude, Parker.” He presses his thumb into his mouth before Peter can respond, pulling it open forcefully and trapping his tongue under his thumb. “Just remember, anything you think you can get away with doing to me, I can give back tenfold.” He leans down, putting his lips by Peter’s ear. “And it doesn’t have to be to you.” Then he’s kissing him again, teeth tugging on his top lip dangerously before his tongue dips back into his mouth, this time taking his sweet time tasting every inch, even smoothing over Peter’s pinned tongue and his own finger. 

By the time he pulls away, Peter is desperate to breathe, mouth full of saliva that’s not entirely his own. He can taste a hint of blood from where he bit Stark’s tongue, and even as he pants and has to swallow several times around the finger still in his mouth, he can’t help feeling slightly satisfied with himself. He made Stark  _ bleed _ . Just a little, but it’s still more than he ever accomplished before. 

Stark pulls back slowly, almost  _ purring  _ as his lips and tongue drag along his chin and jaw. Peter swallows hard again, trying to regulate his breathing and focus on  _ anything  _ besides the wet warmth spreading along the path of Stark’s mouth as he moves down his neck. 

“Umph!” A strangled cry leaves his throat before he can stop it at the sudden, sharp pain in his neck. It feels like-

Stark growls, jaw tight as he worries his teeth against Peter’s skin. Peter can’t help the choked groan that leaves him at the feeling, nor the whimper that tears from his throat when he feels Stark’s hardness brush against his leg as he releases his bite and sits up.  _ Fuck _ . 

Stark just chuckles at the sound. “Oh, silly little spider. I may not actually be a vampire, but you should have known I bite  _ back _ .” He releases his chin, wiping his thumb across Peter’s chest. “Now. Up.” He climbs off of him, grabbing him by one of his bound arms and tugging him to his feet. 

Peter gets to his feet immediately when ordered, despite the head rush it gives him. He’s definitely still regenerating blood; he knows that feeling. It’s almost a relief to feel something he recognizes, especially after… that. Whatever just happened.

Stark is half-carrying, half-dragging him to their destination, but he can’t see well enough past the spots still dancing in his vision for him to be entirely certain of where they’re going until Stark is opening a door and then a second later he’s set on something cold and hard. 

One of those metal tables. They’re back in the lab. 

If only he had the mental or physical capabilities to do anything about it. 

But he doesn’t. And all he can do is lay there as Stark straps him down to the cold metal, looking at him thoughtfully as he steps away. 

The door opens again a moment later, but Peter can’t see Stark or the newcomer from his position. A moment later, he realizes he doesn’t need to. 

“Tony, whatever this is, it better be good.”

A jolt runs up his spine.  _ No _ . It can’t be. 

Stark chuckles from somewhere behind him. “Oh, it is good. Unerringly, annoyingly good, in fact, Doctor. But also a scientific marvel, from what I’ve already seen. But don’t take my word for it. Take a look for yourself.” 

“A marvel, huh?” that familiar voice muses, and then the owner steps into view, and Peter feels his Spider sense prickle in warning at the sight. 

Dr. Banner.  _ Bruce  _ Banner. The Hulk. An Avenger. Or was he?

“Ah. Yeah, this one is a marvel,” Banner agrees, meeting Peter’s eyes and tilting his head. “How’d you end up here, Parker?”

“You know him?” Stark sounds almost pleasantly surprised. 

“I didn’t know he was the Spider-Man. But we’ve met a few times. I suppose that explains a lot,” Banner muses. He walks up to Peter, tilting his head to the side and studying him. “What did you in, kid?” He sounds almost sympathetic, but he doesn’t show any signs of actually wanting to do anything about the state he’s currently in. 

Peter raises his chin. “I traded myself in.” 

Bruce draws his hand away, looking surprised. “Why would you do that?”

“Family,” Stark answers with some distaste, before Peter can say anything. “I had his aunt and uncle brought in. I let them go, since he turned himself in in their place.” 

“You did  _ not  _ let Ben go,” Peter counters sharply, trying to send him a look but unable to crane his neck far enough to do it. It’s still stiff from both the IV and from Stark biting him right over the same spot a little while ago, and Stark is standing at just the right angle that he can’t turn and see him. 

“I didn’t kill him. I told you, that in and of itself is a mercy,” Stark retorts.

“It’s hardly mercy when you’re continually using him against me,” Peter snaps before he can think better of it. 

Suddenly Stark is there again, gripping his chin and jerking his head towards him with no regard for the pain in his neck. “It  _ is  _ mercy compared to what I would have done to anyone else. He is still a criminal. And yes, I  _ am  _ using him against you, and I will  _ continue  _ to until you learn your place.”

“Oh, learn my  _ place _ , huh? Let me guess. Under you, right?” 

Stark smirks, leaning close enough for their noses to brush. His grin only widens when Peter involuntarily jerks away from the touch. “Always, sweetheart. In  _ every  _ way.” 

Banner only snorts, shooing Stark away. To Peter’s surprise, Stark chuckles darkly but complies, and he allows himself to release a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Banner may not have been who he thought he was, but it’s obvious from the way he touches him and his general demeanor that while he has no intention of stopping Stark, he wasn’t going to hurt Peter, either. “Who knew scrawny superheroes were your type, Tony.”

“Only when they’re feisty and intelligent. Everyone else bores me,” Stark replies flippantly. He sounds so calm, as if he wasn’t just up in Peter’s face, threatening both him and the life of his uncle. 

“Looks like you already had a time with him,” Banner notes, running a finger against the bruise on the side of Peter’s neck. He lets out a low hiss at the pain. 

“Not quite. Just a short lesson in who’s really in charge. I knew you’d be coming shortly, there wasn’t time for anything else.” Stark shrugs, returning to Banner’s side for a moment. “You have everything you need?” 

“Of course. I know where everything is if not.” 

“Good. I should get going, then.” Stark looks down at him again, tilting his chin up with a finger. “I’m leaving you with Doctor Banner for now. You will behave and do whatever he tells you to.” 

The “or else” goes unspoken, and for that, at least, Peter is grateful. He doesn’t need another reminder of all the hellish things Stark has in store, just waiting in the wings for him to make a mistake. 

He just nods. Stark stares at him for a moment, as if debating whether or not to believe him, and then shrugs, letting him go. He disappears from sight, and a moment later, Peter hears the telltale sound of a door shutting behind him. Now he’s alone with the mutant doctor with uncertain intentions and suddenly completely ambiguous loyalties. Great.

If he senses his thoughts, Banner doesn’t comment on them. Instead, he flashes him a small smile and simply says, “Alright. Let’s get started.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just say we are earning that E rating today. Things are going deep dark and heavy now. I don't want to say too much and give anything away, but... yeah, it's only going to get darker from here for a while, folks.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: heaps of dubcon, with both experimentation and sexual, and of course more banter and exchanging of threats between Tony and Peter. That's the worst of it... for now.

Being with Dr. Banner isn’t bad. 

Yes, he is technically experimenting on him. Yes, his loyalties and intentions are… highly questionable. But aside from that, he’s the same man he was the few other times Peter ran into him. Kind, funny, and a little awkward, it’s true, but despite that, Peter almost enjoys their time. 

At least Banner is open enough about what he’s doing. It’s not that bad, and any time he isn’t with Stark is a welcome reprieve. He’s sure soon enough he’ll be savoring these moments, even if they’re not actually that much better than being with him. 

It doesn’t feel like that long, despite everything they do. Peter listens to what Banner orders him to do, if only because he has no reason to fight most of it. It’s awkward, sometimes, but he holds nothing back. He’s honestly curious about the extent of his powers too. 

He has half a mind to hold back, not wanting Stark to know the full extent of his powers, even if he’s always wanted to know himself. But he knows that Stark can force him to reveal them if he refuses, and he has no doubts of exactly what will happen and to whom if he so much as tries. 

He only has a limited amount of control over what happens to his family. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t use it to spare them to the best extent he can. 

This is also part of the reason why he doesn’t ask Banner a lot of questions despite his itching curiosity. If it seems like he’s fishing for information Stark doesn’t want him to have… well, the results probably won’t be pretty if he finds out. And right now he has no way to know if Stark is actually watching them or not — he’s not stupid enough to believe he  _ can’t _ , just knows that he might not actually be — so he doesn’t. He can ask questions when they’re face to face, so at least he can get a read on when he’s pushing too far. 

It’s a few hours later when Banner finally calls it. He’d spent the last hour doing vigorous exercises, and though he’s dripping with sweat, his stamina isn’t even close to running out. That’s not to say it isn’t tiring, but he could keep going.

“I think that’s enough,” Banner says, drawing Peter to a stop from the pushups he’d been doing. “It’s obvious you’re not going to tire anytime soon. We’ll need days to test the full extent of this.” 

“Days?” Peter repeats. He’s never went for  _ days  _ at a time before, but in the right setting, it could be possible. He’s not sure that’s something to look forward to, though. 

“Accounting for different variations and such and the actual amount of time you go every time, yes. We’ll have to have several sessions. I’ll talk to Tony and see what he’s interested in pursuing.” Banner doesn’t look up front where he’s scribbling notes at a desk a few feet away. “You can go. I’m sure he’s back by now.” 

Peter gets to his feet slowly, stretching out his sore muscles and groaning a little. He has half a mind to ask if he should be tied up again, but if Stark wants him bound, he won’t hesitate to tie him up again. He probably knew exactly what Banner was planning to do, so he won’t be surprised he’s not. 

Slowly, he makes his way out of the lab, but stops in the hallway. He has no idea where he’s supposed to go, nor where he is  _ allowed  _ to go. As much as he’d like to explore, get the layout of the area, the last thing he needs is Stark to find him somewhere he’s not supposed to be and accuse him of trying to escape or worse. 

“Master requests your presence in the kitchen, Mr. Parker.” 

The disembodied voice makes him jump. Perhaps he should have been expecting it — he knows Stark has an AI in his suit; why would the house be any different? 

Oh well. It startled him, but at least it solves his problem. 

He heads down the hallway towards the open area where he’s fairly sure the kitchen is. It takes a minute to find it, but when he does, he sees Stark sitting at the island, sipping a cup of coffee and tapping away on a tablet. 

He stops dead in his tracks at the sight. It’s just so…  _ weird _ . He’s only ever seen him in his Iron Man suit, when they were fighting, or in a regular suit, if he were spying on him around town or at public gatherings. But right now he’s in neither of those things; he’s dressed in a simple jeans and band tee shirt, sitting casually in the kitchen, looking altogether… normal. 

Stark looks up when he enters, and for a brief moment when their eyes first meet, he’s  _ sure  _ they’re brown. But then he blinks and steps closer, hoping for a better look, and they’re blue again. 

He rubs his eyes, blinking a few times. Could he really be losing his mind already? It’s only been half a day. Christ. 

When he refocuses, Stark is looking him over appraisingly, and he flushes under the intensity of the look, wishing he’d put his clothes back on before leaving the lab. Banner had made him strip for a physical examination before much else, and he was still only in his boxers now, since his jeans and sweater from yesterday weren’t exactly conducive to exercise. 

“Staring is rude, you know.” The words leave his mouth before he can really think to stop them.

Stark’s eyes snap up to his, and a bemused smile curves up his lips. “I’ll remind you of that when I take you to bed tonight,” he tells him coolly. “But I’ve got no problem with touching you instead, if you’d prefer.”

The words make his stomach clench again, the hot and heavy feeling returning. It should be dread, but it isn’t. Honestly, he’s not surprised by the intention, although he  _ is  _ by the flat-out admission on the other hand. And even more surprisingly, he’s not really scared. 

He should be, he knows. But in all honesty, he just can’t make himself be, for a lot of reasons. Stark is going to do what he wants to do, and Peter knew that when he’d handed himself in, even if he admittedly hadn’t thought much about it in the heat of the moment. It was already something that had been on his mind for years, what Stark would do to him if he ever captured him, and he’d known the reputation the elder man had even before he was Iron Man. It wasn’t a big leap to make, and he was smart enough to know that fighting it wouldn’t do any good.

But Peter was also an enhanced individual. He’d had sex a few times — not many, but enough to have tried it with both genders and a few different ways — and it was enough for him to know that while he didn’t need much to get off thanks to his enhanced senses, he had  _ very  _ specific cravings. Ones that normal people couldn’t or didn’t want to participate in. He liked it rough — and rough, for him, was a hard point to reach. Normal people couldn’t even succeed in leaving marks on his skin, let alone making him sore. And there is also the flip side to it — normal people are just so  _ fragile _ . He had to be so careful with his previous partners that honestly if it hadn’t been for his enhanced senses, he probably  _ wouldn’t _ have got off with any of them. 

He doesn’t expect any of that from Stark. Gentle didn’t seem to be his MO, especially if earlier was anything to go by. And while Peter may have hated the man, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy the sex. Nor could he probably pretend that he didn’t. He didn’t have  _ that _ much self control. 

It also doesn’t mean he has to give in easily. 

“If you could catch me, maybe,” he says, walking to the other side of the island and leaning against it.

Stark shrugs. “There’s nowhere for you to run to. You could try, but it would be a bad idea.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Let me guess. You’ll hurt Ben if I try?”

Stark chuckles dryly, shaking his head. “I’d be more worried about what I would do to your tight little ass when I catch you.” 

The words make his stomach clench again, and he swallows audibly. Stark’s grin only grows at the sight. “Come here.”

The order makes him freeze.  _ Fuck _ . Does he put his money where his mouth is, or does he obey?

It’s not a decision that takes much thought. Slowly, Peter straightens from where he’s leaning on the counter. Stark is smirking at him, predatorily, and he knows whatever decision he makes is going to end with him getting absolutely  _ wrecked  _ either way. 

He moves to stand in front of Stark, swallowing down his nerves. Maybe not today. Running would be an action that would ensure he wouldn’t be walking for at least the next day, probably, and he’d prefer not to have Stark to punish him already, the first time. Rough was one thing. Being used and possibly beaten to a bloody pulp was another entirely, and he has a feeling if he pisses him off, he won’t be shown much mercy.

Stark raises an eyebrow, running a hand flat down the front of his bare chest. The touch is light but firm, and the feeling of the callouses on the elder man’s hands make him shiver as much as the tension behind the motion. “I thought you might actually run,” he admits, tilting his head. “Too scared to test the waters? Or too eager for me?” The hand doesn’t stop at the top of his boxers, moving right down the middle and gripping him through them. “Did earlier make you a horny little spider?”

Peter hisses out a breath at the feeling of the villain’s hand wrapping firmly around his length, even through his boxers. “Maybe,” he responds, watching the elder man’s face at the response.

Stark just hums, giving him a firm tug closer and letting his other hand curve around Peter’s hip, traveling up his spine. Peter almost groans. He holds it back, but the smirk that curves up Stark’s lips tells him he didn’t miss it. 

“Good. I will make you hard and horny frequently. You don’t have any control over that, I’m sure, nor the way you’ll be conditioned after a few weeks. But here’s what you need to know.” He leans closer, so they’re almost nose to nose. “You are  _ mine,  _ Parker. Every inch, every thought, every bit of pleasure or pain… it’s mine. You are a pet and a hostage. You get nothing I don’t allow you to — be it time, food, water, clothes, sleep, orgasms, I don’t care.” The hand on his back moves to grip the base of his neck, pulling his head down. “You’re not going to like that and I know that you’ll fight it occasionally. You’ll be punished for it, and probably often, until you learn the rules. But I’ll enjoy every minute of it.” 

Then he gives him a firm push back and turns back to his tablet. Peter stands there for a whole moment, staring dumbly at him, before Stark casually says, “Boxers off.  _ Now _ ,” and he snaps out of it and scrambles to comply, a mix of fear and excitement lending the urgency to his movements. 

Stark’s words were everything he expected and feared. Still, his trembling is a mixture of both emotions. 

He lets the boxers fall and waits. Stark has returned his attention to his tablet, tapping away and ignoring him for a solid few minutes. Then, without looking up, he says, “You’re going to walk around the floor like that the rest of the day, if not the week. I want it in your head exactly how open access you are to me.” He pauses, glancing up at him for the first time and looking him over. “Kneel beside me. Jerk yourself off, but don’t come.” 

The kneeling thing again. A kink, or just because Stark liked to humiliate him, test how well he’ll actually listen? 

It doesn’t much matter. He doesn’t have a whole lot of choice, and he’s already as exposed in just about every way as he can be. He gets on his knees beside Stark’s chair, biting his lip as he starts to slowly stroke himself. 

He’s hard already, more so than he’s probably ever been, and he probably shouldn’t be surprised but he kind of is anyway. This is definitely humiliating, and not on a small scale. Stark isn’t even looking at him, for God’s sake. The point really must be to test his obedience, since he doesn’t seem to be very entertained. 

Being unentertaining seems like a good way to end up suffering a punishment worse than death, so he decides to change that. Peter starts jerking himself off, quickly, and in short strokes, releasing his lip to unstifle the groan rising in his throat. He’s used to trying to muffle his cries, for a lot of reasons, but he has a feeling Stark won’t appreciate that. 

This goes on for several minutes in much the same way. Stark is still on his tablet, humming appreciatively every now and then at Peter’s ever growing moans but still not turning his attention away from him work. Finally, several minutes of jerking at his own cock later, Tony lays the tablet down and locks it, turning to face him. 

Peter hears him turn, feels the shift in attention as those piercing eyes run over him. A hand runs through his hair, the touch surprisingly light until it reaches the nape of his neck, fisting the curls there and jerking his head back, eliciting a strangled gasp from the younger man. 

Stark chuckles coldly, drinking in Peter’s face. He just watches until Peter is panting, motions growing rapid as he gets close, before reaching down and wrapping a hand firmly around the base of his cock. “Stop.” 

The word is soft, but it’s not a suggestion. Peter lets his hands drop immediately, still breathing raggedly as he looks up at the villain in front of him. 

“Good boy.” Stark lets go of his hair, moving the hand around to the front to brush his thumb down Peter’s jaw, then trace the outline of his limbs. “God, I can’t wait to choke you on my cock. We’ll see how smart that mouth of yours is when it’s full. You don’t even get to  _ breathe _ without my permission now.” The words are soft, deceptively gentle, but obviously dangerous. Promises, not threats, Peter’s mind supplies helpfully. He cups Peter’s chin, tilting his head back further and forcing him to bare his throat again. “Got something smart to say to  _ that _ , sweetheart?”

“Is it even big enough to choke on?” The words, again, fly out of his mouth before he can think better of them. 

He blanches almost instantly. Stark’s eyebrows shoot up, and his lips twist up into a feral grin. “Oh, you  _ silly _ boy. Are you trying to tempt me? Is that what this is? Because you might want to think again. I can and  _ will _ wreck you. Mind, body, and everything you think you stood for. I thought I might even keep you as a pet, give you a certain level of freedom, but… it looks like making you a mindless beast is the only way you can be tamed.” 

Peter stares at him, eyes widening a little more with seemingly every word. He opens his mouth to speak and finds Stark’s fingers immediately pressed into it, shushing him and curling around to hold his jaw closed. “The only reason I’m not going to choke you on it now,” Stark continues, as normally as if he were discussing the weather, “Is because when I do, sweetheart, I’m going to make it so you can’t talk when I’m done with you. And tonight, I want you to  _ scream _ when I split you open and fuck you senseless. So perhaps I’ll fuck your raw throat in the morning. But for right now… I think I have another appointment to get to. And you, pretty boy, are going to stay right here and cook something for dinner while I’m gone. If there’s any kind of trouble, Jarvis is going to alert me, and not being able to walk or talk tomorrow will be the least of your worries. Do you understand?” 

Unable to give a verbal answer with his mouth held closed by Stark’s curled fingers, he just nods. 

Stark smirks, his eyes seeming to glow for a moment before he lets him go. He stands, wiping his hand on his pants. “Excellent. I’ll be back in an hour. I’d choose what you make wisely.” 

Then he leaves without another word, leaving a dazed and horny Peter still on his knees on the kitchen floor. 


End file.
